


True Love

by RaceUlfson



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Humor, Prequel, Too Many Incidental OOCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaceUlfson/pseuds/RaceUlfson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows Maes and Gracia were in love. But how did they meet?</p><p>Formerly titled "Let Me Call You Sweetheart"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Date

Gracia Monroe finished hanging the photographs and slipped out of the dark room, anxious for a breath of fresh air. Mr. Hilcrest was the owner and purported photographer, but his long lunches now stretched for days at a time. To his credit, sober or not, the man managed to come in every Friday, go over the books, and cut Gracia's paycheck. Lately it was up to her to generate enough income to make that possible.

The bell to the front door jangled and Gracia hurried forward. She smiled at the chic young woman standing in the lobby.

"Claudia! I hope you've come to get a portrait done, we need the work."

"Can I pose in the nude?"

Gracia hid both her blush and the giggle behind her hand. "That would give Mr. Hilcrest heart palpitations."

"Never mind, then. If you are truly strapped, give me a ring and I'll have mother bring the dogs over. She can't get enough photos of them and there is probably still some space on the piano for another group shot." Claudia Fairview dug around in her little handbag and offered Gracia a lavender scented handkerchief embroidered with pink rose buds. "Smudge, Darling."

While Gracia obediently wiped her face, Claudia continued, "The real reason I dropped by was to beg a favor of you. Have you RSVP'd to Ruby yet about Tom's birthday party Sunday?"

"Oh, no! I meant to write her - I'll have to telephone my regrets."

"No regrets, Darling, you must come as a favor to me. A friend of Tom's turned up in town, on his way to meet up with his squadron- they're being sent to Ishabal. Tom invited him, naturally. So Ruby is short a woman and I told her you would come alone, since I have to drag Reginald along. So you must go."

"Claudia, I can't go on a blind date just to even out a party. I'm engaged to Fred! You remember him? He's your brother?"

"Phfft, Fred will be delighted. He doesn't want you mildewing at home while he's in New Optain being incredibly boring."

"He's not boring," Gracia protested, laughing.

"I've known him all my life and I can barely keep my eyes open around the man. I know that's his attraction for you - a future full of good night’s sleeps. And me as a sister-in-law, of course."

"Of course. Honestly, Claudia, it won't look right if I go out while Fred is off on a business trip."

"It will be fine. Fred knows all about it and gives his blessing - or he will after I telephone him tonight. And consider Tom's friend, alone in town. He's on his way to the front and you know what their life expectancy is." Undeterred by Gracia's gasp, Claudia continued, "Support our troops! Give the poor man at least a party and a pretty girl to chat with. Wear that pink thing with your new hat - the one with with the roses on it. You can borrow my silk shawl in case the breeze comes up, Reg wants me to wear my new sailor outfit. Bring a pie as Tom's birthday gift. No, bring two, Reg will want one and he can eat a whole pie all by himself, the hog. Bring three or I won't get a slice." She glanced at her wristwatch. "I must run, if I'm too late Reg will tee off without me. Why am I dating this impossible man?"

"You mentioned something about love," Gracia murmured, amused.

"Hearsay, I'll deny it if pressed." Claudia blew Gracia a kiss and was gone.

 

Reginald Ragsdale picked Gracia - and four pies - up in his roadster. Claudia had gone ahead to help their friend Ruby Poole supervise the set up at the park; Ruby had planned a barbecue cookout and picnic for her husband's birthday. The park boasted a nice croquet field, boat rides along the river, and a formal rose garden, so there would be plenty to do. Once the sun dipped, they would all regroup back at Claudia's and play bridge or dance to her jazz phonograph collection. 

Gracia was glad Mr. Hilcrest had given her two days off - she would be lucky to get home before 2 am. Her friends were wonderful people but most of them had no concept of working for a living. That was part of Fred Fairview's charm - he and Gracia were the odd ones of their social set, unwilling to idle their time away. Fred was grooming to take over his grandfather's banking empire; Gracia simply loved photography.

"Glad you could come, Gracie," Reginald offered after they were on their way.

"Me or the pies, Reg?" Reginald Ragsdale's mother was Gracia's mother's best friend and thus he was an honorary first cousin. He had practically lived at their house while they were growing up.

"You always were a bright girl, Gracie. I know all the ladies have their one dish they make in times of joy and travail, but you caught a winner picking apple pies. All Bunny can do is some sort of flaming cherry thing. Not really what a man wants in his sickbed, you know?" Reg's little sister's real name was Marjorie, but no one ever heard it after her naming day.

"Claudia does exquisite little chocolate truffle tarts."

"Claudie has her cook send over a proper basket of real food. Have you ever actually tasted one of Claudie's tarts? I think they are as mythic as hen's teeth and horse feathers."

Gracia laughed. It was true; no one ever got one of Claudia's fabled chocolate truffle tarts. The occasion was inappropriate, the recipient too ill for such rich fare, or the ingredients were unavailable. "Tell me about my date for the party."

"Good sort, knew him from the Academy. Not our set, scholarship, I reckon. Did a lot of sports - he was our pitcher, took the championship because of him. Went into the regular Army after, now he's on his way to Ishabal. ...Don't suppose we'll see him again, poor bas-bligh-ah, fellow."

"Don't say things like that, Reggie, I'll burst into tears when I meet him. You make it sound like he has a terminal disease."

"Ishabal is pretty much a death sentence, Gracie. Well, maybe not, they are sending the State Alchemists in and that should fix it all up tight. He'll be back in time for your wedding." Reg had no trouble espousing two diametrically opposed ideas in the same breath. Gracia patted his arm.

They were met at the park by the guest of honor, Tom Poole, who happily claimed a pie as his gift. Reg offered to place the other two on the buffet - Gracia noticed one pie somehow was forgotten in the roadster. Tom's wife, Ruby, took Gracia's arm and led her over to a cluster of young men who had discovered the open bar. Mostly boys from their regular crowd, with a few strangers. She mentally tagged a very precise looking young man with a sandy mustache as her military date of the day.

Ruby's older brother Dick had already made a dent in the whiskey and his greeting was lavish. "Miss Monroe, you are a vision in pink. Fairview is a damn lucky man. Or maybe not, since he isn't here. Tom is, anyway, got my sister and this treat and now you." He hooked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the sandy haired man. "This weed is a cousin from the old home town, Harmon Greenwood. His sweet young thing is off with Annie, I suspect."

Gracia shook his hand for Ruby's sake. She'd always considered Dick Greenwood an overbearing bully and alcohol didn't improve him. She secretly pitied his wife, Anne. Harmon didn't seem much better; he was so stiffly correct he could have been made of wood.

"Gracia, this is Maes Hughes, an old school friend of Tom's." Ruby turned Gracia's attention to a lanky dark haired man with a bohemian beard and narrow glasses. Unlike most of the other men, who were all in blazers and white slacks, this man wore a light gray summer suit with hints of purple in the tweed. His mauve waistcoat was nothing short of alarming. "He's stopping over on his way-" Ruby hesitated; it wasn't really polite to mention things like war at a birthday party. "...East."

Hughes smiled like the whole world was a joke and only he knew the punchline.

"Maes, Miss Gracia Monroe. We were in school together."

"Ah, so we are all school chums? We can line up for a spelling bee after supper."

"Oh dear, that was never my forte." Gracia extended her hand and Mr. Hughes bowed over it properly, but peeked up. His eyes were green like a cat's, and full of mischief.

"Never understood the purpose of spelling things out loud," Dick Greenwood mused. "Meant to be written down, aren't they?"

"Wait until you have children, Greenwood. Then you'll know." Hughes released Gracia's hand.

Since he couldn't be married or Ruby would have mentioned it, Gracia asked, "Do you come from a large family, Mr. Hughes?"

"In a manner of speaking," he replied easily. "I see they are setting out some sort of champagne punch, would you like a cup?"

 

Gracia found the punch too sweet, so Mr. Hughes made discrete inquiries and scored iced tea from Ruby's cooking staff. Meanwhile Gracia loaded up two plates, making sure to get at least one slice of apple pie for Hughes. She arranged herself on a blanket in the shade to await his return.

"That looks good," Hughes said, handing her a frosty glass. Gracia assumed he meant the meal but blushed anyway.

They settled in to the business at hand. It was fun to sit on the ground and eat while dressed in party clothes, but it wasn't comfortable. Hughes seemed relaxed enough, but then the military uniforms never struck Gracia as particularly comfortable looking, so maybe he was used to it. She didn't want to ask, afraid to bring up unpleasant things - like how soon this nice young man would be facing battle.

"I love apple pie," Hughes crooned, discovering dessert. He offered Gracia half of the slice.

"Oh, help yourself, I don't want any - I made it."

He gave the pie a respectful look. "That explains why Poole was hording one."

"It's his birthday gift from me. My mother always said, never give a man anything but baked goods or a kiss."

"A man would be hard pressed to pick a preference."

Gracia pinked. "You are too kind."

"Based on this sample, I'd say you made the right choice." Hughes ate another bite. "But then, I've never kissed Tom Poole."

"I don't think it would sit well with Ruby if you did," Gracia giggled.

"That reminds me, Poole was showing me some photographs he said you took for them. One, of his wife by the roses, is stunning."

"Ruby is a lovely girl."

Mr. Hughes shook his head. "No - well, yes, I suppose she is, but I think you could have photographed my great aunt Julia in that pose and made her look good. And Aunt Julia can turn a man to stone with a glance."

"She can't be that bad!"

"Well, a good hat can cover the snakes in her hair, yes, but even so..."

Gracia smothered a laugh. "You are cruel, I'm sure she's a nice old lady."

"Sure, if you don't mind all the odd statuary and being served sliced hero on toast." He smiled when Gracia gave up her good manners and laughed. "My point is, you have an eye for composition and lighting."

"It was just a snapshot. Photography is a little hobby of mine."

"More than a hobby, don't you do it professionally?" Mr. Hughes sounded interested instead of slightly scandalized.

"I am fascinated by it, but there really isn't anywhere to learn photography. I convinced Mr. Hilcrest to give me lessons and he ended up paying me to be his assistant." Diplomatically, Gracia added, "His hands shake somewhat now - he's getting on in years."

They chatted amiably about Gracia's pet passion. Hughes was impressed Gracia did her own developing.

"That sounds tricky."

"No, all you have to do is get the chemicals right and try not to stain your fingers." Gracia was monopolizing the conversation, something well bred young ladies were taught never to do, but Mr. Hughes was surprisingly easy to talk to.

"Will you be staying with Hilcrest? Or opening your own salon?"

Gracia's face fell. "I'll be giving it up when I get married."

"Why? I can see keeping the kiddies away from the chemicals, but what man worthy of you would expect you to give up something you enjoy and are clearly talented at?"

Blushing at the casual mention of her future children, Gracia murmured, "I expect I shall be too busy." The truth was, Fred thought it was inappropriate for a rich banker's wife. He barely tolerated her forays into the kitchen to bake pies. Mr. Hughes tilted his head like an inquisitive bird, his green eyes looking right through Gracia's polite prevarications.

"I could use some more iced tea," he said after a moment. "Would you like me to bring you some or have you sat on this lumpy tree root as long as you can take it, too?"

 

They ran into a few more of Gracia's friends by the buffet and paused to chat. She introduced Mr. Hughes; he really didn't know a soul at the party besides Tom and Reg, and Tom was busy being both host and guest of honor. A quick peek around revealed Reg, no doubt full of pie, napping under a tree with his head in Claudia's lap. She rolled her eyes at Gracia, who smiled back. 

Suspecting Mr. Hughes must be bored to death, Gracia tried to cut the conversation short, but not much could slow Emma Arthur down once she got going.

Hughes plucked an orange out of the bowl, and another, and then a third. He juggled them absently, almost like it was a nervous habit. Gracia was transfixed, fascinated by the deft quickness of his hands, and she was only paying marginal attention to Emma. Fortunately, that's all that young lady required.

Because Gracia was watching Hughes, she could see, behind him and off to the right, Dick Greenwood and his timid wife, Anne. Dick had been drinking steadily - to the point his sister had instructed the hapless staff to cut him off. Dick, naturally, took the insult out on his wife.

"Goddammit, Annie, can't you do anything right?"

Even Emma's conversational flow faltered, but she gamely resumed, firmly ignoring The Scene they all knew was about to happen. Gracia sighed. Annie was such a nice girl, too. No backbone to speak of, but a sweet thing.

Anne Greenwood's soft, placating reply was unheard, of course.

They were not so fortunate with Dick.

"I'll do whatever I goddamn well please! Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you!"

Dick pulled back his hand as if to slap Anne. Gracia gasped in horror.

And one, two, three oranges hit Dick Greenwood firmly in the chest, toppling him over into the ornamental fishpond.

Gracia looked around. Mr. Hughes had moved so fast, no one else even saw it. She was sure they'd think birds had dropped the fruit somehow. She looked up at Hughes, too astonished for words, and he winked at her.

Emma, distracted at last, rushed over with the others to help or watch Dick being fished out. Left alone, Gracia managed, "Mr. Hughes!" It came out more admiring than she meant it to.

"He'll be all right," Hughes said serenely. "Oranges are good for you." He offered his arm.

"Oh, Mr. Hughes," was all Gracia could get out. Then she laughed.

 

They toured the rose garden and barely returned in time for cake and ice cream. Mr. Hughes was interested in everyone, from guests to servants to total strangers in the park, and Gracia found herself telling him bits and pieces that she knew. It didn't feel like gossip so much as telling an eager child bedtime stories. Mr. Hughes had a way of inviting confidences.

"Anne will be all right, Dick is supposed to be sweet when he's sober and he won't get any more today - I'm sure he went to his parent's to change clothes, they are the closest family home, and Mrs. Greenwood won't put up with him drinking or fussing at Anne."

"Maybe she can give her lessons on how to stand up to the man."

"Or you can teach her how to throw oranges. How did you...?"

Hughes flashed his wicked grin and Gracia found herself blushing. She was glad to see Claudia Fairview trot up, Reggie in tow.

"Darling, the choice is boating or croquet and I'm not up for either."

"You are dressed for boating," Mr. Hughes pointed out. Claudia did look sweet in her sailor outfit.

"Gnats. And rivers have a certain aroma up close. And I can't abide smacking colored balls through little wickets. I keep thinking of hedgehogs and I feel sorry for them."

"Should feel sorry for the flamingo, Claudie," Reg put in it. "Hitting a hedgehog with your melon can't be nice."

"Whatever." Claudia waved her hand. "As an alternative, I offer the old church across the park. The architecture is supposed to be... old, at least, and the view from the belfry should be wonderful."

"Isn't it closed?" Gracia asked.

"Not in use, so no one will be bothered by us gawking." Claudia sweetened the deal with, "There should be lots of photo opportunities."

"Oh, I didn't bring a camera."

"Too bad, I would have loved a shot of Dick Greenwood hitting the drink." Reg chuckled. "Amazing thing, that."

Gracia caught Mr. Hughes' eye, and he smiled blandly at her. "We could go scout it out and I could bring my equipment by later..."

Taking that for the assent it was, Claudia started walking briskly towards the opposite end of the park. Gracia hurried to catch up with her, since Reg was asking Mr. Hughes his opinion of the local ball team. "Will we be able to get inside?"

"I have the keys, I got them from the Park grounds man. In case it rained." Claudia said smugly.

Gracia glanced up at the cloudless sky and made a noncommittal noise.

"I like him," Claudia said suddenly. "He's good for you, Gracie."

"Claudia! How can you say that? What about Fred?"

"What about him? Darling, Fred suppresses you. He's a good man but he was born an old stuffed shirt and you are only 20. You never laugh as much around Fred as you have with Mr. Hughes today."

Firmly, Gracia said, "Mr. Hughes is a nice man and I wish him well, but I am going to marry your brother."

"At least there are no more Greenwood men on the prowl. Dick and Harmon make a pair, aren't they? What do those girls seen in them?"

"Claudia!"

"Well, it can't be money, Anne's people are rolling and Bernice is an Armstrong."

"Claudia, really. They are in love."

"Darling, I hate to imagine you think that's what love looks like. Your mother may have been all praises and devotion to your sainted father, but, and forgive me for being crude here, he's dead." Claudia linked arms with Gracia. "It's very easy to adore a man who's not underfoot. Real love isn't worship, it's give and take and quibbling and still wanting the big lunk even if he naps in the middle of a party or -" She raised her voice loud enough for the men following them to hear, "-forgets to mention a girl's new outfit."

In chorus, Reg and Hughes sang out, "Looks great!"

"Men!" Claudia huffed. Gracia tittered.

 

The church boasted some fine woodcarvings and interesting architectural oddities. Claudia, for all her breeziness, had dabbled with alchemy and was at least up on the symbolism displayed, enough to give a guided tour of sorts. She and Reg went up the narrow stairs to the belfry first, leaving Hughes and Gracia admiring some ornate ironwork.

"Darlings, you must come up and see the view," Claudia called down. Hughes and Gracia exchanged smiles and obediently moved up the narrow stairs. They had to flatten against the wall to let Reg and then Claudia pass on their way down.

"Not much room up there," Reginald explained. "Can see half the city, makes it worth the squeeze."

Gracia could see what they meant. The belfry was a fair size, but most of the floor was cut out, presumably to allow the long gone bells to be rung from below. The view of the park was worth the danger, though, and she turned, captivated by the long shadows cast by the late afternoon sun. Mr. Hughes joined her, testing the floor carefully, but if it held Reggie Ragsdale it would certainly hold the much slimmer Hughes. They leaned on the low wall, watching the ducks and a few stragglers from Tom's party, comfortably silent.

"Isn't that Ragsdale and your friend?" Hughes asked suddenly.

Shaken from a daydreams of light and shadows, Gracia started and peered. "Yes! I suppose they were tired of waiting. I'm sorry, I was wool gathering."

"Gather enough for a sweater, I'm in no hurry."

Gracia noticed the angle of the sun and sighed. "We should get back."

"Before the bats wake up, yes."

With a gasp, Gracia looked up. High in the peak, there were shadows that could be bats. She shuddered.

"I take it you are ready to go." Hughes moved to hold the door for her, but it wouldn't open. He frowned and jiggled the handle.

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. The knob turns... I think something is blocking the door."

Gracia ran back over to where she'd last seen Claudia and Reg walking. No one was in sight. "I am going to kill Claudia Fairview. And then I'll dance on her grave."

"Whoa, that's bloodthirsty of you. Something could have fallen, you know."

"This has prank all over it, and the only one who would think of it is Claudia. Reg just went along because he's besotted with her."

"Locking us up in the belfry? What could she hope to accomplish?"

Blushing, Gracia lied, "I cannot imagine."

"Would you like to prank her back?" Hughes pushed his glasses up, making them glint in the orange sunset light.

"How?"

"When they come to set us free, we could be long gone. That should teach her a lesson."

"That would require us getting out. I don't think I can sprout wings."

"Ah, my angel, I'm sure you could if you tried."

Gracia blinked, not sure what she'd heard. Mr. Hughes was not inclined to repeat it; instead he leaned out over the wall and looked around.

"It's not really very far down to the roof. Then..." he trotted around the belfry like a busy dog, hoisting himself up to scout over the wall at regular intervals. "Yes, it slopes down to the first level roof, and then we'd just have to get down from there. I can lower you, you'd only have about an eighteen inch drop."

Angry with her friend's misguided attempts at matchmaking, Gracia nodded. The vision of Claudia's expression on finding them gone was very satisfying. Mr. Hughes spread his handkerchief on the wall and Gracia sat as instructed. Clinging to Mr. Hughes' arm for support, she carefully turned so she was facing the rather alarming drop down to the slate roof of the lower section.

"Scoot a little closer to the edge," Mr. Hughes coaxed.

Gracia looked down and hesitated. Surely Claudia didn't intend to leave them there all evening? "I believe that is more than 18 inches, Mr. Hughes."

Hughes coughed, then said cheerfully, "I have no objections to staying here all night with you, Miss Monroe, but I think you'd rather not spend the night with me. And the bats."

She wiggled a little closer, so her legs were hanging down further. It still seemed a goodly drop. But... "I detest bats."

"Oh, they are nice little creatures, really. Eat bugs. Lurk in belfries."

Gracia shivered and moved a tiny bit more. "They are rats that fly!"

"I always thought that was pigeons," Hughes said thoughtfully. Then he pushed her off.

With a shriek, Gracia dropped, only to be caught firmly by the upper arms by Mr. Hughes. He wasn't wearing gloves, and his hands were warm and ever so slightly rough, like he had worked hard using them. The strange intimacy of being touched by a virtual stranger left Gracia flustered and breathless.

Hughes relaxed his grip slowly, allowing Gracia to slide downwards while his hands moved up - or was that down? - her bare arms. She instinctively raised her arms and let Mr. Hughes control her fall downwards. He stopped at her wrists, leaning over the wall to lessen the drop. When he finally let go, Gracia barely fell six inches. She caught her balance on the slates and tried to get her heartbeat and blush under control.

"Oh, my. Oh my goodness gracious."

"The next part will be more fun, I promise." Mr. Hughes vaulted over the wall and landed next to Gracia, light as a cat. 

Dumbstruck by his athletics, Gracia allowed him to lead her around the bell tower to the back of the church, where the roof pitch was more dramatic and sloped sharply down to the lower level. Hughes took off his suit coat and spread it over the cap tiles at the peak.

Gracia tried not to gape. She'd thought the shoulders of Mr. Hughes' coat were padded, as was the fashion, but she could clearly see there was no extra batting there. It was all Hughes! Reggie Ragsdale was a large man, but he was large all over, and built rather like a teddy bear. Fred was aesthetically thin - Claudia called him 'weedy'. Mr. Hughes was... entirely too well put together.

Forcing her mind away from dangerous thoughts, Gracia looked around. "We are going to slide down like tobogganing on a snowy hill? How will we stop?"

"Don't worry about that, I can create enough drag to stop us. I'm not too sure we'll slide all that well, there is a lot of dirt up here." Mr. Hughes sat down on his coat and patted the space between his knees. Deciding that a businesslike approach was the least embarrassing, Gracia settled in the indicated spot.

"Keep your knees up and if we get out of control, tuck your head down and think like a rubber ball."

"Oh, Mr. !" He'd pushed off without warning, and they careened down the roof. Gracia found herself laughing, too giddy to be afraid. True to his word, Hughes stopped them right at the edge, by sticking out his long legs and bracing against the guttering. It creaked in protest, but held.

Gracia let her head fall back against his chest. "Oh my. Oh my. I'm not sure if that was wonderful or terrible."

"I had fun." Hughes slowly removed his arms from around Gracia's middle. He patted her shoulder before standing. It was a short step to the next roof, which left them only one floor up. He helped Gracia over to the edge, looking for likely pipes or trees or vines. The church was depressingly bare of such useful items. He sighed. "Alright, then."

"At least we are further from the bats," Gracia offered consolingly.

"I'll get you home safely, don't worry." Hughes picked his spot and turned so he could step backwards off the edge. Gracia managed not to scream; she supposed she was getting used to him. She did rush over and see that Hughes had grabbed the edge and was hanging by his hands. He grinned up at her and let himself drop the last several feet to the lawn below.

Gracia dragged the remains of Mr. Hughes' coat over and sat down. The slide down the roof had ruined it, and she found herself worrying whether Mr. Hughes could afford another suit. She waved encouragingly at Mr. Hughes. "I'll wait while you fetch a ladder."

He looked around. "I don't think we'll find one. You'll have to jump."

"I most certainly will not. I've been very agreeable so far, but I am not going to leap off a roof top and break all my bones."

"I'll catch you. I'd never let you fall."

Gracia stared at him. "I... appreciate that, but I think that will simply mean we'll both be in traction."

Mr. Hughes stepped forward and held up his arms. "It's only a very little gap between you there and you here, safe and sound. All you have to do to bridge it is jump, Miss Monroe."

"Why do I feel like everything you say has another meaning?"

He smiled at her. Gracia sighed, considered her options. A bat shrilled, settling the matter. She jumped.

She landed, true to Mr. Hughes' prediction, safe in his arms, cuddled against his chest. Gracia looked up at him, her heart pounding so hard he surely had to feel it. He even smelled nice - sunshine and soap and a hint of bay rum. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.

For a moment, Gracia thought she was going to let him.

"Would you like to rejoin the party, or shall I take you home?"

Spell broken, Gracia pulled away, berating herself. She was affianced to Fred! "I think I should like to go home, please."

Mr. Hughes found a taxicab and Gracia provided her address. He walked her up the stone steps to her little town house, and politely held the screen door back while Gracia fumbled with the lock. Once she was inside, she turned to thank him. Mr. Hughes hesitated and Gracia wondered if he was going to try again for a kiss. Her heart skipped a beat, and she let the screen door swing shut, dividing them.

"I had a wonderful time today," she said sincerely. "Thank you." It struck Gracia suddenly that he was leaving for the front and she was never going to see him again, and it was too horrible for words. Pressed by some nameless dread, Gracia choked out, "I hope we'll meet again someday."

Filthy from crawling about on rooftops, missing his coat, and with a taxi waiting at the curb, Hughes blurted out, "Will you marry me?"

Gracia closed her eyes and felt some ineffable tension drain away. "Yes," she replied, and shut the wood door and went to explain things to Fred.


	2. The Next Day

"Can you spare me a moment for a chat, Gracie?"

"Mother!" Gracia ran over, greeted her mother with a quick kiss on the cheek. "I really can't, I'm way behind - I've been on the telephone all morning."

"Yes, I know," Mrs. Monroe said dryly. "That's why I stopped in on my way to Bridge Club." She sat down on Gracia's lounge and accepted a cup of coffee from Finch, Gracia's maid. "I had a strange conversation with Freddie Fairview this morning."

Gracia paused in brushing out her hair. "I'm sorry, I left a message for you last night, but you were out. What did he say? I assume he told you the engagement is off."

"First words out of his mouth, and that was a shock to wake up to, my dear. He said you found someone who suited you better. Really, Gracia, I brought you up better than that. It isn't done, breaking a man's heart over the telephone."

"Did he sound heartbroken? He seemed rather relieved when I talked to him. Anyway, what was I supposed to do? Wait until Fred got back from New Optain?"

Mrs. Monroe sipped her coffee. "I thought you loved Freddie."

"I thought I did too, isn't that ridiculous? Now I know better." Gracia called to Finch, "Which earrings?"

"Pearls before tea, Dear," Mrs. Monroe reminded her.

"I told the gentleman you would be wearing light blue, Miss." Finch brought in a simple pale blue day dress with a handkerchief hem.

"Oh, I love that dress, I'd forgotten all about it. Thank you, Finch." Gracia riffled through her jewelry box, looking for her other pearl earring. "Did Fred say anything else?"

Finch discretely moved off to fetch Gracia's hat. Not that she didn't know the story as well as or better than Mrs. Monroe herself.

"He wanted me to make sure the man wasn't after your money. What man? And what money? That Hilcrest individual scarcely pays you enough to keep you in hats, and your husband couldn't touch the trust your father left."

"Fred was always very concerned about money." Gracia was flitting around her dressing room like a butterfly.

"Freddie is worried you are making a dreadful mistake and I must say, I see his point."

"You'll change your mind when you meet him, Mother. He's the most wonderful, perfect man who ever lived. He's handsome, brave, funny, kind..." the rest of Gracia's praises were muffled as Finch determinedly pulled the dress over her head.

Mrs. Monroe attempted to apply any of those adjectives to Fred Fairview. Well, she supposed, he had always been a nice boy, in a prim, fussy sort of way. That could count as kind.

Gracia emerged from the silk. "When he smiles at me, my heart races."

Nostalgically, Mrs. Monroe said, "Winston could bring the sun out on a cloudy day. Oh, my dear, I hope you know what you are doing."

"It's like the scales dropped from my eyes. I can't believe I ever confused the respect and friendship I felt for Fred for love."

"My Dear, you can scarcely have love without those!"

"Well, yes, but-"

The doorbell chimed and Gracia gasped. "He's here!" She raced off to the door.

"Gracia, let Finch..." Mrs. Monroe sighed and looked at that good woman. "It's like she's six years old again."

Finch smiled fondly. "Yes, Madame."

They both unabashedly strained to listen in as Gracia greeted her new beau.

"You made it! I'm so glad." Gracia bubbled.

"I didn't know you were a blonde!" A man answered, laughing.

The ladies exchanged glances.

"Oh, I forgot the rose cloche hides my hair completely. You don't mind? It’s a very dull sandy color."

"It's like burnished gold, or amber. It's perfect, I love it. You look wonderful."

"Thank you." Gracia replied. "Oh, they are lovely, thank you! Come and meet my mother."

Finch faded back when Gracia came into view clutching a nosegay of violets and towing a lean, bookish young man in a dark green blazer and slacks. Why his valet had allowed him to wear that waistcoat and tie was beyond Mrs. Monroe's imagining.

"Mother, this is my finance`-" Mrs. Monroe gasped at that news. It was possible Gracia had neglected to mention it in all the excitement. She had a more pressing dilemma at hand.

Gracia could not remember Hughes' first name. Didn't Ruby mention it? Surely someone must have! She floundered and Hughes stepped forward.

"First Lieutenant Maes Hughes, M'am." He bowed.

Oh, goodness, that's right, he was a military officer and Gracia had been calling him 'Mister' Hughes all day. And he never corrected her once! She blushed.

Mrs. Monroe offered her hand. Amused, she murmured to Gracia, "It's common practice to know one's finance's name, my dear." And her hair color, she added silently.

"I'll never forget it again," Gracia said breathlessly. "Maes, my mother, Mrs. Winston Monroe." Maes, what a wonderful name. Mrs. Maes Hughes.

"I'm honored," he said. He sounded like he meant it, too. "While we are on the subject, I'd like to clarify - is your name Grace, Gracie, or Gracia? I heard you answer to all the above yesterday."

"Gracia is biddable like that," Mrs. Monroe said with a smile.

"Nicknames," Gracia explained. "My given names are Gracia Elfleda."

"Mercy and beauty, they suit you well."

While Gracia blushed and fussed with her hat, Mrs. Monroe took the hint and rose to go.

"I will be late for Bridge Club, but I shall carry the day in news. Lt. Hughes, I look forward to learning more about you."

After she departed, Hughes said, "Should I call you Gracie?"

"I wish you wouldn't," Gracia replied. "It sounds so baby girl for a woman planning to marry. The others do it because they've known me forever and there's no hope in changing them."

"I'll have to find a good pet name for you."

"I'd be happy with anything except Darling. Claudia calls everyone Darling."

"Noooo," Hughes said thoughtfully. "A person needs a unique, special name. Like Sparkles."

"Oh, not Sparkles! That was my pony's name!"

It was years before she found out why Maes laughed so hard.

 

They spent the day shopping for wedding rings, and currently Maes held in his pocket the most beautiful, perfect, simple emerald cut diamond ring Gracia had ever seen. Finally satisfied, they returned to Gracia's home so she could change clothes, preparatory to dancing the night away. Maes noticed the garden while she was dressing, and asked for a tour.

Gracia's town house boasted a deep, if narrow, yard and she had filled it with roses and jasmine. The back fence was covered in a tangle of wisteria and honeysuckle, and the combination of fragrances in the warm summer evening were as heady as wine. Or maybe it was the presence of the man beside her. She was drunk on love.

In a starlight filled open space, Maes turned to Gracia and took her hand. "I knew you were the other half of my soul, I knew it when I first set eyes on you. But, Gracia, if I'm not who you want, I can devote myself to making you happy in other ways."

"I will never be happy if I'm not married to you, Maes."

He grinned and slid the ring on her finger. She knew she'd never take it off. Then Maes tipped Gracia's face up so she was looking at him and not the ring. He bent down, pressing his lips to hers.

She forgot to breathe. Gracia's heart raced, and she clutched Mae's arms for support. Her toes curled, just like in the storybooks.

Then she collapsed with a shriek.

"Sweetheart?"

"Cramp!" Gracia ground out. "Charlie Horse. Oh, Maes, oh my goodness, it's traveling right up my leg."

He scooped her up. "Don't point your toes."

"Point my toes?" She tried it and the cramp got worse. Gracia was near tears from the pain.

"No, don't! Try to relax." Hughes was briefly stymied by the glass doors into the house, but Finch had heard Gracia's scream and rushed to the rescue.

"Easy for you to say! Your limb isn't turning to stone!"

Finch opened the doors, giving Maes a suspicious look as he brushed past to set Gracia on the couch.

"Finch, right? We need lemonade and a banana. Or orange juice. At least water and some milk." Meas unbuckled Gracia's shoe. All she could do was lie back against the pillows and moan.

Maes tossed the shoe aside and started massaging Gracia's foot.

"No, no, stop it, it's getting worrrrrssse."

"That's the muscles trying to relax. Don't worry, it will peak out and then just be sore for a while. You need some fluids and potassium and you'll be all right."

"Peak out?" Gracia wailed, trying to get her foot away from Maes. "If the pain gets any worse I'll lose my mind!" She burst into tears.

"Sweetheart, Angel, trust me. Just let me rub it out."

Gracia chewed her finger trying not to scream. Meas ran his hands up her leg and efficiently unclipped her stocking, quickly rolling it down and off her foot. It joined her shoe somewhere on the floor. The lingering warmth of his fingertips on her thigh nearly distracted Gracia from the pain. Nearly.

Finch appeared and offered Gracia a glass of orange juice, a banana, and a stack of handkerchiefs. "I can take over now, Sir."

"I think not, Finch. Your hands probably aren't strong enough. Just keep pouring fluids into Gracia, there." He was kneading up and down Gracia's leg, and Finch was certain Mrs. Monroe would faint if she knew Lt. Hughes had his hands above Gracia's knee.

Mr. Fairview certainly wouldn't have been so bold. But then, Mr. Fairview had never bothered to learn Finch's name, either.

Radiating disapproval, Finch propped her mistress up and coaxed her to drink. Gracia, pale and splotchy from crying, sniffled while she obediently ate the banana and sipped the juice.

Maes moved back down to rub Gracia's foot. "Ah, there we go."

Gracia gave a half sob. "Oh my, oh goodness gracious. It's finally stopped. You are a miracle worker!"

"It's not so much, I've seen it often enough before. Dehydration, low on potassium, and all it takes is a little muscle flex and there you are." Maes indicated to Finch that she could return to her regular duties. She left reluctantly after Gracia's confirming nod, gathering up crumpled hankies and the banana peel. Finch paused on the way out and very deliberately picked up Gracia's stocking and shoe and set them on the end table. Maes grinned at her.

"I'm so sorry, Maes. I was too excited at lunch to eat or drink much."

"I don't know how you ladies walk all day in high heels without getting those on a regular basis."

"I never want to have one again!" She smoothed her skirt back down, blushing.

Maes sat down on the floor beside the couch and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Drink plenty of fluids before the wedding, then, Sweetheart - I don't want you to collapse when we kiss at the altar."

Gracia hid her face in her hands. "Oh, dear... our first kiss, too."

"You certainly made it memorable, my love."

Torn between laughing and crying, Gracia flogged Maes with her handkerchief. He flailed, laughing.

"Maybe all we need is more practice?"

"Maes!" Gracia swatted at him some more. "You don't even want to look at me, I'm a mess."

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." Something in Maes' voice, his eyes, made Gracia believe him.

He took her foot and massaged it some more. Now that the pain had eased, Gracia could enjoy the sensations of Maes' strong hands kneading and manipulating her sore muscles. He tickled her ankles, smoothed over her calf. Gracia sank back against the pillows and watched with half closed eyes as Maes slowly, so slowly, worked his way up her leg.

Maes got onto the couch, straddling Gracia's legs, so he could better continue the massage. Indecorously above her knee, but not high enough to get his hands slapped, he stopped. Instead, he chose to run his hands lightly up the outside of her body, tracing the curves. When he stopped that time, Maes was leaning over Gracia, sheltering her beneath him. She reached up and entwined her fingers in his raven black hair, tugging him down to her.

When their lips met, there was no spasm, just a slow, comfortable settling together. It was fireworks and whiskey; it was honey and cool water; it was the slow roll of thunder on a hot sultry day.

It felt like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a true story - my mother was engaged to another man, went on a "coke date" to even up numbers at the request of a sorority sister, and at the end of the date my father proposed to her through a screen door. My parents managed about 50 years more than Gracia and Maes had, but love is never bound nor limited by time. 
> 
> I dedicate this to all the funny, sweet, brave men who leave us too soon and the indomitable women who must carry on without them.


End file.
